by Ilana Waters
“Not if you want to rest easy at night,” I replied.
“Little chance of that happening for a while.” She heaved a sigh, got up, and began rifling through the kitchen. “At least take something to eat before you go.”
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m not hungry.” Why is that?
With one hand on the open refrigerator door, Abigail turned and gave me a funny look. “Well, all right, then. Arthur?”
“I’ll take an apple, thanks.” Abigail threw him one from the crisper as he headed towards the elevator. “You really should eat something, lad,” he said to me. “You look tired.”
“That’s true,” Titus called from the couch. “But it better not interfere with this task.”
“Do be careful, you two!” Abigail said as the elevator doors closed.
It’s all right, Mom, I thought to myself. I’m possessed by a demon. I don’t think it could get much worse.
Chapter 6
“Are you sure I should be out in public?” I asked Arthur as we walked to the PIA’s Roman branch. It was only a few blocks from the Hassler, but it still seemed a bit of a risk to me. “I mean, aren’t you worried what we—what Oblivion might do to you through me? The same goes for anyone else here.” I motioned to the unsuspecting mortals ambling up and down the street. “You heard what happened the last time I wandered about unsupervised.”
“Well, I’m here to ‘supervise’ you now.” Arthur crunched into his nearly finished apple. “And if all else fails, you know I have a crossbow at the PIA, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
“Thank you, Arthur.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “That’s very comforting.” And in a sad way, it kind of was. I’d almost rather take a crossbow bolt than do some of the evil things I’d contemplated before, or cause people to get swept away in a storm. I’d already moved my effects into the guest room of my parents’ suite. Once Titus and Abigail were fully recovered, their combined magic would prevent Oblivion from trying to wreak havoc through me. Hopefully.
We were almost at the PIA when I caught a glimpse of myself in a darkened store window. My breath caught in my throat as I thought, for one moment, that Oblivion might appear. Though perhaps he didn’t show himself in just any reflective surface; perhaps only in the underground mirror.
But what Arthur said to me earlier was right: it was hard to believe I’d carried a demon for over thirty years and not known it. I stopped in front of the window and put my hand to my face. The scratches that were there before had faded, like the rest of my family’s. But even after hours of sleep, there were bags under my bloodshot eyes, and my skin looked sallow.
“Could I really be a demon?” I murmured. I searched the reflection, as if the answer could be found there.
Arthur swallowed the last of his apple and threw the core into a trash can. Then he stood next to me in the window.
“You’re not a demon, Joshua,” he said gently. “You have a demon in you.”
“Is there a difference?” I gave myself a final glance before continuing on. “Soon, will it even matter anymore?”
I was eager to get this over with as quickly as possible, and not just because it might help us stop Oblivion. Being around the PIA, with the exception of Arthur, was dangerous for my kind. The organization could easily expose a supernatural creature, which might incline other mortals towards a torches-and-pitchforks situation. I wish I could say humanity had grown more civilized than that over the centuries. But I find it’s hit or miss more often than not.
We finally arrived at the PIA’s multistory, Italianate building. It boasted numerous bay windows, a row of Doric columns on the first floor, and a hip roof tower on one end. It looked so classical and harmless, one would never think it was dedicated to all things magical and mysterious. It was after-hours, so few PIA members would be there. Still, there was no sense in taking chances.
“All right.” Arthur unlocked the door. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll make my way up to the safe, which is in the east wing. That’s around the side of the building over there.” He pointed towards the section with the tower. “I’ll open the window and give a little wave. Then, I don’t know . . . maybe you can climb or fly—oy! Joshua! Where’d you go?”
“Still next to you.” I’d already made myself invisible, but with a thin, shimmering outline that only Arthur could see. “Don’t worry. To everyone else, it appears as though I’m not here. Will this do? Not that your Mission: Impossible scenario wasn’t entertaining.”
Arthur shook his head and smiled. “If you’re this good with cracking safes, it’ll go swimmingly. Righto, then. Follow me.”
We walked in and looked around the lobby. Like the one at the PIA’s London branch, it bore a strong resemblance to a 1940s hotel. You could see parts of each story from the ground floor. The paint on the wall had faded, and velvet seat cushions were threadbare. In fact, everything looked a bit frayed and timeworn. Even the cage elevator, complete with scissor gate, was broken.
“Damn,” Arthur said. “Looks like we’ll have to take the stairs.”
“At least Marcello’s gone home.” I jutted my chin at the reception desk. Not that I had anything against Marcello, but the fewer PIA members around, the better. We went up several flights of stairs until Arthur had to catch his breath.
“It’s all the way up here?” I said.
“The senior members want to keep it out of the way,” Arthur puffed. “You wouldn’t expect them to put it in the general collection, now, would you?”
“In the darkest room in the tallest tower, et cetera, et cetera,” I said, and we walked on. A few other PIA members passed us in the hall. When they saw Arthur talking to someone who wasn’t there, they gave him funny looks.
“Stop making conversation,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Everyone will think I’ve gone mad.”
And so silence reigned until we reached the senior members’ private offices. The sign on the door’s glass insert, “Senior Members Only,” was a dead giveaway. Arthur looked up and down the hall until he was satisfied no one else was about.
“Right. The first step is to open this door, which only the senior members have keys to—”
I placed my hand on the knob, closed my eyes, and heard a click. Then I pushed the door open.
“After you,” I said to Arthur.
“Bloody hell,” he said softly.
“The safe will be a bit harder,” I admitted.
“Still . . .” He gave an appreciative nod, and we walked into the office, shutting the door quietly behind us. I took the invisibility spell off myself.
“I think we’d do well with one of your magic lights,” whispered Arthur. “We can’t risk turning on the real ones; all the senior members have gone for the day.”
“Done.” I made a light small enough so as not to show through the glass on the door. I kept it close to me as I examined the safe, which was black, and about six feet tall. Everything else in the office was commonplace. There were the typical dark wooden desks, chairs, bookshelves, and accountant’s lamps. Nothing except the man-size, locked box of steel indicated the mystifying secrets kept here.
“I apologize for not knowing the combination—”
“I don’t need the combination.” I held my palm out with splayed fingers as I assessed the energy inside the lock.
“Right, then.” Arthur turned towards the door. “I’ll keep watch while you commit your felony.”
With my mind, I searched for spindle notches that lined up with their respective wheels inside the lock. The combination dial moved of its own accord until I heard a click, and the safe door opened. I pulled it back slightly, then motioned to Arthur.
“Ready to see what’s in here?” I asked as he peered over my shoulder.
He nodded vigorously and put on his reading glasses. “Ready whenever you are. But you know, I still don’t see why Oblivion’s making this relatively easy. You’d think he’d put fo
rth more effort to stop us.”
“Remember,” I said grimly, “there’s a good reason for that. Why keep us from researching if, with time, he and I will simply meld together? Which is exactly what’s happening.”
“Hmmm. Maybe if it needs time to happen,” Arthur tapped his fingers on the side of the safe, “it will buy us time to figure out a way to defeat him.”
“Perhaps,” I said. But to be honest, I didn’t have high hopes. My mind was already drifting back to the woman on the metro, eager for a way to ditch Arthur so I could go on the hunt again.
Slowly, I opened the safe door. Inside lay stacks of files, papers, and boxes. On top of these were small artifacts, many carved out of wood or ivory. Between the boxes and the right-hand wall of the safe were several books. Arthur ran his finger down the stacks, muttering to himself.
“Leaders: Past, Present, and Future . . . no, that’s not it. Property of Queen Sophia Rose Delphi Del . . . something. That’s not it either. Aha! Here it is.” He pried a dog-eared book out from between two others. The front had a gilded border at one point, but most of it had flaked off. “A Treatise on All That Is Otherworldly.”
“Awfully slim volume for that,” I said as he handed me the book.
“Yes, well, more is unknown than known about the otherworldly. But I think you’ll find that book particularly helpful because—”
“Where’s the section on demons?” I flipped through the pages, not looking up.
“That’s just it,” said Arthur. “There isn’t one.”
I stopped scanning the book and stared at him. “You brought me all the way here for a book that’s not even on demons?”
“Yes! No. I mean, there’s a section on doors to other worlds. Maybe there’s something about the demon’s weaknesses. Something in that other world that could stop him.”
I groaned. “Arthur, I just found out demons are real and that one’s taken up residence.” I motioned to my chest. “I really don’t want to have to add portal jumping to my resume right now.”
Arthur made a face. “Well, it would go nicely with the safecracking. Anyway, it may not come to that. Look here.” He pointed to the table of contents, and we turned to a chapter called “Opening the Door.” We read a few paragraphs until my eye caught something familiar.
“Wait, go back.” I stared intently at the previous page.
“Why? What’s that?”
“I’m not sure.” I held my light closer. The shape I saw was like two teardrops pushed together, on their sides, tip to tip. Like the symbol for infinity.
“It’s called a lemniscate,” I suddenly remembered.
“Did you say ‘Lemony Snicket’?”
“No, lemniscate,” I repeated. “I accidentally made this symbol on Oblivion’s mirror when I was in the underground. Something about it irritated him. It was the only thing that did.”
“Irritated him?” echoed Arthur. “We need to send him back to hell or wherever, not annoy him to death.”
“I know, I know.” I traced my finger around the lemniscate again, only to feel a fierce snap. “Dammit!” I pulled my finger back and shook out my hand.
“What was that?” Arthur asked.
“I don’t know. It felt like really bad static electricity.”
“That’s odd. I never got zapped by static with my finger in a book.”
“Me neither.” I narrowed my eyes at the lemniscate. “Maybe that means we’re irritating Oblivion again. Maybe we’re on the right track. I wonder . . .”
I lifted my finger above the book and began tracing the lemniscate in the air. To our surprise, it hung there in a shimmery outline, like the one Arthur could see when I went invisible.
“Are you doing that?” Arthur whispered, leaning his head close to mine.
“It’s not me,” I said out of the side of my mouth. I continued tracing the shape. The lemniscate grew brighter and began to spin. It went slowly at first, then faster, until I couldn’t bear the weight in my finger alone. I used my whole hand instead. When it again became too heavy, I used two hands, pushing the book at Arthur. Waving both arms wildly above my head, I’m certain I looked like a mad orchestra conductor.
But that paled in comparison to what was happening with the lemniscate. It was growing larger and brighter still, spinning so fast it was one big circle of blurry light. Yet, something inside the light was still visible.
Dear reader, please don’t ask me to describe it, because I can’t. Literally. It wasn’t made of magic from fire, earth, water, or air. And yet, it was all of these. It made me feel wonderful. Terrible. Like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to, or something that was meant for me all along. A secret. A not-secret. Something I always knew. Something I never could have guessed.
But the muscles in my arms, back, and shoulders were beginning to ache. It was getting harder and harder to form the lemniscate. Imagine trying to continuously hold a barbell over your head. At this point, I’d like to remind the reader I am not a professional bodybuilder.
Suddenly, I heard a noise like zzzt, and felt a stinging pain in my head. Oblivion. I grabbed the sides of my skull and tumbled backwards. The lemniscate abruptly disappeared.
“Joshua!” Arthur cried, falling next to me in the near darkness and dropping the book. “Ow! Bugger.” He rubbed his back. “Are you all right?” His glasses had been knocked sideways into his hairline, and he carefully disentangled them.
“I think so.” I massaged my temples. “You?”
“I’ll live,” he replied, though I could hear the grimace in his voice. The lemniscate had made the room so bright, several moments passed before our eyes adjusted to the dimness of my magic light. But it took equally as long for our minds to recover. I felt incredibly awake, shaken, and confused at the same time.
“I think Oblivion really has something against that symbol.” I stood and offered Arthur my hand. “I mean, did you see that? Did you feel that?”
Arthur nodded and grabbed my arm, pulling himself up. “I absolutely did.” He placed his glasses back in his pocket. “That was by far the strangest thing I’ve seen in all my years at the PIA. But what does it mean?”
“I don’t know.” I retrieved the book from where Arthur had dropped it. Quickly, I scanned the rest of the chapter on opening doors. “But this treatise or whatnot contains little else that’s relevant. Let me practice making the lemniscate more when we get back. It could be the key to that other world you mentioned.”
“I wonder if I might practice, too.” Arthur looped his finger in the air. Nothing happened.
“Sorry,” I said. “Maybe you have to be a mage.”
“It’s just as well,” Arthur sighed. “But this is a good thing, right? Maybe it means Oblivion doesn’t have complete control over you.”
Could it be? I wondered. Is it possible my free will really could expel this demon?
“Let’s hope you’re right, Arthur,” I said. “But for now, we have to get out of here.” Very carefully, I placed the book back between the others. I closed the safe door and turned the dial to the same number as before. My hand was still on the dial when Arthur and I heard the slow creaking of the office door opening behind us.
We froze and stared at each other, wide-eyed. How could we have neglected to lock the door? Too bad Arthur stopped keeping watch when I opened the safe. Slowly, we turned around. There, standing like a shadow in the door frame, was a figure whose face I could just make out.
It was the last person in the world I wanted to see.
Chapter 7
“Philip!” Arthur gasped.
“Philip Grant.” I set my jaw as I stared at the stocky young man.
“I knew it! I knew I saw a light in here,” he breathed, staring at the magic above our heads. It glinted off his slick blond hair, circular glasses, and the pink skin of his round face.
I don’t understand. There’s no way he could have seen my magic light from inside or outsi
de the build—damn! He meant the bloody lemniscate. Arthur and I had been so awed by it, we’d forgotten the spectacle it made.
“We—I—thought you were still in Stockholm for the fire-witch investigation.” Arthur coughed. “What are you doing back so soon?”
“Perhaps a better question is: What are you doing in the senior members’ private offices, unauthorized and after-hours?” Philip’s piercing blue eyes were full of outrage. His clipped British accent barely masked his fury as he turned towards me. “Better still, Arthur, why are you with that thing?”
Sadly, this wasn’t the first time Philip had insulted me. A third-generation PIA member, he hated me as soon we met, when I was pretending to be a new recruit. Part of it was because I got a plum assignment rather quickly, whereas Philip had his nose to the grindstone for years with no such luck.
Never mind that it was all a ruse to find my missing mother. According to Arthur, Philip walked around with a chip on his shoulder regardless. Apparently, his grandfather had been some kind of RAF hero in World War II. Philip was always trying to live up to his family’s expectations for selfless bravery. I supposed he felt he hadn’t done it yet, though perhaps catching a mage in an illicit act qualified.
Philip scanned my face, no doubt seeing the injuries and stress from the past several days. “You’re in even worse shape than when I saw you last.” He gave the lapels of his three-piece suit a gentle tug, and adjusted his well-knotted tie. A brief examination of his thoughts showed gloating over how much more composed he was than me. “What’s wrong?” The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Evildoing not agreeing with you?” Then, his jaw went slack. “Wait. I know what you’re doing here.”
“You do?” I said. My heart started to pound.
“Of course. It’s obvious. You’ve mentally enslaved Arthur, just as I originally thought. Now you’re using him to carry out whatever noxious plot you’ve cooked up.”
Joshua, there’s a secret exit in the corner. Arthur’s gaze moved sharply to the right and back again. Philip doesn’t know about it. If we can distract him . . .
